May 27/08.
Lloyd arrived with 4 railway ties on his half ton. These could have come from the very railway that brought a young Rod MacKillop from Cape Breton in 1926 (and the rest of us are history). We dropped off the ties near the north fence across from where neighbour might subdivide a second acreage. The ties will support young Rod's storage container which arrives this weekend. I imagined a used ugly box sitting there and recall Dad saying years after I settled here, "I'm glad you never put a caboose car down by the rocks because I came west by train and never wanted to see another one." Amazing how things come around.
larry
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
CLUSTER BOMBS KILL KIDS
Dear Editor
Canada under Harper has become a clone of US foreign policy. Because previous foreign affairs minister, Lloyd Axworthy worked against American resistance to achieve a ban on land mines, a lot of kids have not lost lives and limbs. Now the world aims to stop using cluster bombs which kill people without damaging buildings. These bombs, dropped in bright orange packages, are picked up by kids in the counties we aim to liberate (sic) like Kosovo. The US is again lobbying allies not to sign this treaty. Canada, once respected as a peace maker, is going along with Uncle Sam. Meanwhile at the UN we are not even trying to win a seat on the UN Security Council. Seems we'd rather kill kids than make peace.
Sincerely
larry mackillop
Box 633
Nanton Ab
T0L 1R0
403 646 5643
Canada under Harper has become a clone of US foreign policy. Because previous foreign affairs minister, Lloyd Axworthy worked against American resistance to achieve a ban on land mines, a lot of kids have not lost lives and limbs. Now the world aims to stop using cluster bombs which kill people without damaging buildings. These bombs, dropped in bright orange packages, are picked up by kids in the counties we aim to liberate (sic) like Kosovo. The US is again lobbying allies not to sign this treaty. Canada, once respected as a peace maker, is going along with Uncle Sam. Meanwhile at the UN we are not even trying to win a seat on the UN Security Council. Seems we'd rather kill kids than make peace.
Sincerely
larry mackillop
Box 633
Nanton Ab
T0L 1R0
403 646 5643
Monday, April 28, 2008
Spring is Birds
Linda and I are walking in the fields we see a suburban over by the coulee. Just then 15 swans fly over us. At the pasture gate we meet Neal Campbell,whose family have banded raptors here for 30 years. He says my brother John taught him hunter conservation. He tells us he saw a golden eagle on her nest and that his bro John will be back mid June to band the chick(s) He also informs us of a nearby lek with grouse dancing by the road. We plan to be out there tomorrow am at sunrise.
Spring is birds!
Spring is birds!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
LAMBS MAKE ME A MOTHER AGAIN
I wonder why I thrive on this recurring crisis. Yesterday, Margaret Thatcher, the oldest of my 4 surviving ewes (the cougars always kill the younger ones) was standing alone with her 2 gaunt lambs. I brought all animals into the barn as I do each night and checked Thatcher to find her bag as hard as a rock. I took the halter off Rowdy, the llama (I have to catch him each night and lead him into the barn as cougars eat them too) and used it to tie Thatcher to the corner of the pen. I milked her getting milk from one side but only blood from the udder (sic) side. Mastitis, Dirk, the vet (and a sheep breeder) confirmed by phone. Dirk recommended a different antibiotic than the one I had in my fridge. Since Linda was in town, I called the grocer, PO, bank and liquor store but I was always one step behind her. I dialed the cell phone we just acquired and Linda, hearing a strange musical sound coming from her purse, called home to ask if it was me ( I am very impressed she managed this technical advance). I asked her to pick up meds at the vet's office. Next I mixed up some milk replacer filled a bottle and capped it with a nipple. Linda came home with a vial of antibiotic.. I gave the ewe a shot and forced the nipple of my bottle into each lamb's mouth.. In past they have not always sucked but these guys did , especially Mutt the little one. (Jeff, the larger, has been getting most of his mother's milk). Then the lambs went after Thatcher's bag with vigour, hopefully stripping it out..
Before going to bed I went to the barn with rifle in one hand and milk bottle in the other to give Mut and Jeff a night cap.
This morning I was happy to see Thatcher still standing with her head bowed. She had drunk some water from the bucket but eaten nothing. I tied her up, milked her a bit and the lambs intermittently sucked her and the bottle. I slid some oats to her and noted her tongue licking at them. She too seemed to have the will to live, a zest not all sick animals possess.
After I let the other animals out and fed them hay, I trudged back to the house to get my own breakfast. Suddenly I recalled a late night in a Uganda hospital as I gave my very sick month old son a bottle of milk that his mother had expressed from her breast. I heard myself exclaim "You have to live!" His glazed eyes met mine as though he understood.
Before going to bed I went to the barn with rifle in one hand and milk bottle in the other to give Mut and Jeff a night cap.
This morning I was happy to see Thatcher still standing with her head bowed. She had drunk some water from the bucket but eaten nothing. I tied her up, milked her a bit and the lambs intermittently sucked her and the bottle. I slid some oats to her and noted her tongue licking at them. She too seemed to have the will to live, a zest not all sick animals possess.
After I let the other animals out and fed them hay, I trudged back to the house to get my own breakfast. Suddenly I recalled a late night in a Uganda hospital as I gave my very sick month old son a bottle of milk that his mother had expressed from her breast. I heard myself exclaim "You have to live!" His glazed eyes met mine as though he understood.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
EATING DAD'S PROZAC
letter published in the Globe this morning.
Yes, but how do you feel?
Re Antidepressants Little Better than Placebos (Life, Feb 27): I've been awaiting this study for years. When my father, upon confinement to a wheelchair, had angry outbursts, the medical answer was to give him Prozac. I substituted icing sugar in Dad's capsules and, out of curiosity took the Prozac myself. This seemed to give my father a bit more energy in his final years, but left wondering what personality changes I might experience. I'm still normal, I think.
Yes, but how do you feel?
Re Antidepressants Little Better than Placebos (Life, Feb 27): I've been awaiting this study for years. When my father, upon confinement to a wheelchair, had angry outbursts, the medical answer was to give him Prozac. I substituted icing sugar in Dad's capsules and, out of curiosity took the Prozac myself. This seemed to give my father a bit more energy in his final years, but left wondering what personality changes I might experience. I'm still normal, I think.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Wondering Where The Lions Are
Those Bruce Colburn lyrics ran through my head as I entered the barnyard yesterday morning. Emma had been barking but I assumed at the new neigbours going to work. Suddenly I saw 2 animals running up and down the fence. Coyotes trying to get in? I ran back for the shot gun and after an effort to stick a shell in the barrel, I fired a shot over the invaders. Then I realized it was a pair of cougar cubs, one outside trying to get in and one inside trying to get out. How cute they were at about 20 pounds with dark brown spots, until I saw the damage. A ewe dead by the fence with tracks in the snow revealing a cat had been dragging her along the fence trying to get the carcass over he fence. I ran back to call Fish and Wildlife. This time they would believe me with a cougar cub trapped inside my fence. "We'll be right over," said Keith Linderman, the officer who set up a camera here last May to get a photo of my alleged cougar returning. By the time he and another officer arrived, the one cub had managed to climb the fence and escape with his sibling. Finally I realized the kitties' mother had to have been close by.. The officers cut into the ewe, took photos and showed me how a cougar kills. They bite into neck and sometimes crush a skull. They eat into the heart and lungs first, unlike coyotes who eats the leg of lamb first (as do I). We found another dead ewe in the barn. "Lucky," a ewe with one floppy ear post dogs attack a year ago, did not make it. The officers said they could track and kill the cougar if I wished but trapping her with such young cubs would not work. Or I could keep my animals LOCKED in the barn at night. I thought of the cute cubs, thought of my grandkids and elected for the latter choice. The guys drug my dead animals down into the field and returned with a chorus of coyotes in the air. We made out a claim form and it was over.
So glad l did not purchase 8 new eyes with lambs last week! With 6 ewes and Big Daddy the ram left we are assured of a few little lambs running around this summer (IF I keep them shut in every night. At first I could not get one llama, Rowdy, inside the barn and left him outside. One night he sounded the alarm shortly after dark. I stumbled out of bed and fired a shot in the dark. In the morning I found cat tracks showing the came back and would have had llama had Rowdy not made a racket. Now everyone must be in at night, no exceptions. We are under siege and somehow we don't mind it.
So glad l did not purchase 8 new eyes with lambs last week! With 6 ewes and Big Daddy the ram left we are assured of a few little lambs running around this summer (IF I keep them shut in every night. At first I could not get one llama, Rowdy, inside the barn and left him outside. One night he sounded the alarm shortly after dark. I stumbled out of bed and fired a shot in the dark. In the morning I found cat tracks showing the came back and would have had llama had Rowdy not made a racket. Now everyone must be in at night, no exceptions. We are under siege and somehow we don't mind it.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
FATE OF MY MOTHER
Our Mother, Mary Cecilia was born in Cayley Alberta on Jan 5, 1912. She was the 2nd of 4 live children (three still born Kinney children lie in the old Catholic cemetery north of Nanton). Her father Wm Kinney came here from Illinois to homestead in 1905. Anna had followed him by train to Montana and ox cart to Cayley. She told her youngest son, Frank, of looking up at a sky full of geese to decide this must be a nice place. (Her sister, Margaret while visiting later, was repulsed all by the Montanans carrying guns). Wm Kinney suffered from depression and according to oldest son, Bernard committed suicide after three attempts. He was buried in the old Catholic cemetery and later moved by Bernard to the Catholic section of the current Nanton graveyard. (Why were the 3 children not moved?) Cecilia (11) and Bernard were sent to Lacombe Home which hurt her feelings since it was for orphans.. The Ketchums, a childless couple, offered to adopt Cecilia but she refused. (Cecelia sounded proud when relating this to us).. When she was a teen, her mother took her to visit a convent in Illinois. Anna and Aunt Margaret wanted Cecilia to stay and become a nun. Apparently Mother Superior looked out the window and saw Cecilia climbing a tree. She declared, "I see her as the mother of many boys." Thus was Cecealed (sic) the fate of our mother and the 7 sons and 3 daughters she bore here in Alberta.
Song (I can't get out of my head!) Mother Dear oh pray for me
Whilst far from heaven and thee
Till in Heaven eternally, they love and bliss I share
Postscript: When I was 13, Cecilia sent me to a Jesuit boarding college. They attempted to make me a priest. Years later when I confronted Mom on this, she admitted her intent, adding, "But I found you had a mind of your own! " Was her acceptance of my escape tempered by her own experience?
Song (I can't get out of my head!) Mother Dear oh pray for me
Whilst far from heaven and thee
Till in Heaven eternally, they love and bliss I share
Postscript: When I was 13, Cecilia sent me to a Jesuit boarding college. They attempted to make me a priest. Years later when I confronted Mom on this, she admitted her intent, adding, "But I found you had a mind of your own! " Was her acceptance of my escape tempered by her own experience?
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
liars deniers and clothesline dryers
Dear Editor
I cannot decide which environmental story this week is most insane. 1. A Swedish university has received $590,000 to measure the greenhouse gases released when cows belch(95 percent of the methane comes out this end of the cow). 2. Ontario wants to end clothesline ban by summer(dryers use about 900 kilowatt hours of electricity a year on average). 3. Farmers do not wish to grow biofuel (food comes from farmers not from Safeway). 4.Global warming denier (liar?) Tim Ball is coming to Stavely (to prove 99 per cent of the world's scientists are all wet). When the earth has been subdued by our collective stupidity, perhaps a cow will belch our epitaph, I told you so.
I cannot decide which environmental story this week is most insane. 1. A Swedish university has received $590,000 to measure the greenhouse gases released when cows belch(95 percent of the methane comes out this end of the cow). 2. Ontario wants to end clothesline ban by summer(dryers use about 900 kilowatt hours of electricity a year on average). 3. Farmers do not wish to grow biofuel (food comes from farmers not from Safeway). 4.Global warming denier (liar?) Tim Ball is coming to Stavely (to prove 99 per cent of the world's scientists are all wet). When the earth has been subdued by our collective stupidity, perhaps a cow will belch our epitaph, I told you so.
Monday, January 7, 2008
SICK IN AMERICA
JAN 2008
We spent Christmas past with Linda's family in NE USA. At Chicago airport people lined up to buy flu shots that we got free at home. Linda's parents met us in New Hampshire and drove us to their retirement complex. Sticking out of 3 foot snow banks were election signs and I wondered if Dennis Kucinich was running as strongly here as indicated in the daily emails his campaign sent me. That night after I ate some bad clam chowder, I felt hot and turned beet red from head down to my belly (never looked below that. Reminder of bee sting reactions when we had hives in our trees. Linda and her dad took me to the hospital emergency where, after an hour of some young women trying to get my billing information (not my credit card as Sicko led me to expect) I saw a doctor. He decided it was something ON my seafood. Next day we 4 drove to SW Massachusetts where Linda's brother, Kenny and partner Peter have a country home. (They work and live in NYC) This place dates back to Dutch Indian trading times and the underground railway. They feel poor because they can't afford to put in a swimming pool. We celebrated Linda's Dad's 80th birthday and presented him with a book of his life, nicely compiled by Linda's sister Pat. Over Christmas we ate turkey, ham and roast beef (no sea food) plus Linda's mother's great cheesecake. We donated to Oxfam as presents and received some books and things as presents. We played lots of games led my Linda's nephew Jamie (8), a very talented singer piano player and a demanding drama teacher who did not like me in his class. Then we drove in convoy to New Hampshire behind Pat and her partner, Diane. Back in Concord I planned to visit Kucinich's office but did not find it. (Where art thou Dennis?) Pat and Diane gave us a ride to Boston airport where they caught a flight to California. Linda and I spent 2 days in Boston checking Impressionist art (is there any other?) at Boston and Harvard museums. We also saw a film "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead" about a family killing off each other. (Made me miss MY family). I recommend it for the Philip Seymor Hoffman (Capote) performance. We missed a sold out jazz concert and stayed in nights which was good for my emerging cold. (I only get sick when I travel). Linda's folks came to Boston and joined us for our last 2 days at an airport hotel overlooking Boston's harbor. (The $5 bottle on water in our room made the tap water seem tasty). We all subwayed into Boston on a Charlie pass (Kingston Trio had a song about this) to see the Isabel Stewart Gardener Museum. We tried to find ice sculptures but it was raining! We played euchre at the hotel and awaited the fireworks on Boston's First night. Quite a show. Next morning we flew late to snowy Toronto missing our Calgary flight and almost our alternative one. (Why do we travel at Xmas?) We were met in dry Calgary by Byron with our car. His wife, Ann, fed us supper before letting us drive back to Nanton and our animals not fed that day.
While settling into laundry and credit card bills we watch the US presidential debates as well as crisis in Pakistan and Kenya. (nobody asks an opinion of latter from Obama, the son of a Kenyan) I have not yet received a bill from the hospital but did get an email from Kucinich saying he was excluded from the N Hampshire debates. Shame Americans won't hear a distinctly different voice from the one person who voted against going to Iraq and who favours universal health care. (He'd be elected in Canada) I have started reading "The End of America" by Naomi Wolfe, the book Kenny gave me (wish I'd bought him Naomi Klein's "Shock Doctrine" when I saw it in the Harvard Bookstore.
We spent Christmas past with Linda's family in NE USA. At Chicago airport people lined up to buy flu shots that we got free at home. Linda's parents met us in New Hampshire and drove us to their retirement complex. Sticking out of 3 foot snow banks were election signs and I wondered if Dennis Kucinich was running as strongly here as indicated in the daily emails his campaign sent me. That night after I ate some bad clam chowder, I felt hot and turned beet red from head down to my belly (never looked below that. Reminder of bee sting reactions when we had hives in our trees. Linda and her dad took me to the hospital emergency where, after an hour of some young women trying to get my billing information (not my credit card as Sicko led me to expect) I saw a doctor. He decided it was something ON my seafood. Next day we 4 drove to SW Massachusetts where Linda's brother, Kenny and partner Peter have a country home. (They work and live in NYC) This place dates back to Dutch Indian trading times and the underground railway. They feel poor because they can't afford to put in a swimming pool. We celebrated Linda's Dad's 80th birthday and presented him with a book of his life, nicely compiled by Linda's sister Pat. Over Christmas we ate turkey, ham and roast beef (no sea food) plus Linda's mother's great cheesecake. We donated to Oxfam as presents and received some books and things as presents. We played lots of games led my Linda's nephew Jamie (8), a very talented singer piano player and a demanding drama teacher who did not like me in his class. Then we drove in convoy to New Hampshire behind Pat and her partner, Diane. Back in Concord I planned to visit Kucinich's office but did not find it. (Where art thou Dennis?) Pat and Diane gave us a ride to Boston airport where they caught a flight to California. Linda and I spent 2 days in Boston checking Impressionist art (is there any other?) at Boston and Harvard museums. We also saw a film "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead" about a family killing off each other. (Made me miss MY family). I recommend it for the Philip Seymor Hoffman (Capote) performance. We missed a sold out jazz concert and stayed in nights which was good for my emerging cold. (I only get sick when I travel). Linda's folks came to Boston and joined us for our last 2 days at an airport hotel overlooking Boston's harbor. (The $5 bottle on water in our room made the tap water seem tasty). We all subwayed into Boston on a Charlie pass (Kingston Trio had a song about this) to see the Isabel Stewart Gardener Museum. We tried to find ice sculptures but it was raining! We played euchre at the hotel and awaited the fireworks on Boston's First night. Quite a show. Next morning we flew late to snowy Toronto missing our Calgary flight and almost our alternative one. (Why do we travel at Xmas?) We were met in dry Calgary by Byron with our car. His wife, Ann, fed us supper before letting us drive back to Nanton and our animals not fed that day.
While settling into laundry and credit card bills we watch the US presidential debates as well as crisis in Pakistan and Kenya. (nobody asks an opinion of latter from Obama, the son of a Kenyan) I have not yet received a bill from the hospital but did get an email from Kucinich saying he was excluded from the N Hampshire debates. Shame Americans won't hear a distinctly different voice from the one person who voted against going to Iraq and who favours universal health care. (He'd be elected in Canada) I have started reading "The End of America" by Naomi Wolfe, the book Kenny gave me (wish I'd bought him Naomi Klein's "Shock Doctrine" when I saw it in the Harvard Bookstore.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Granddaughter: when we went to Uganda
Subject: Danis first trip to Uganda
Dear Olivia
in 1965 when Dani was only 1 year old I took a teaching job in Kampala Uganda. It was very scary as there were no books about that country except by a man and woman who were nearly eaten by lions while sleeping in their tent. The news here was about white people being massacred in the Congo. But we decided to go.
Baby Dani and Grandma Geraldine waited in Montreal while I went to school to learn about living in the tropics. Then we flew with ten other teachers and families to Paris. We taxied around Paris for a day then got on a plane. In the Rome airport Dani had had enough of this travelling and screamed. One teacher, Bill Carter (later to become Rods god father) gave Dani a drink of wine. Dani was plastered and fun for everyone except his mother. When we got on the plane for Entebbe, Dani was asleep.
Next morning we landed on the blue shore of Lake Victoria with red soil surrounded by lush green forest. Black men wearing white overalls pushed a stairway out to our plane and we were on African soil.
We lived in the Kampala Hotel 2 weeks before getting a house I think I showed you some movies of Dani and your Mom playing in the backyard. We loved to take weekend trips like the one you will take this weekend with Dani and Rod to Murchison Falls Park. Dani used to laugh when I drove off the road to chase bush pigs. (bad!) I think this is why a few years ago he and my dog chased the sheep through a fence. Have fun at Murchison this weekend. Hope they sill have elephants and other animals feeding under th lights at night. Hold onto Danis hand so he doesnt chase the pigs. Love Grampa larry
White people being massacred... no one tells the Christmas Classics like Grampa Larry...Rod
Dear Olivia
in 1965 when Dani was only 1 year old I took a teaching job in Kampala Uganda. It was very scary as there were no books about that country except by a man and woman who were nearly eaten by lions while sleeping in their tent. The news here was about white people being massacred in the Congo. But we decided to go.
Baby Dani and Grandma Geraldine waited in Montreal while I went to school to learn about living in the tropics. Then we flew with ten other teachers and families to Paris. We taxied around Paris for a day then got on a plane. In the Rome airport Dani had had enough of this travelling and screamed. One teacher, Bill Carter (later to become Rods god father) gave Dani a drink of wine. Dani was plastered and fun for everyone except his mother. When we got on the plane for Entebbe, Dani was asleep.
Next morning we landed on the blue shore of Lake Victoria with red soil surrounded by lush green forest. Black men wearing white overalls pushed a stairway out to our plane and we were on African soil.
We lived in the Kampala Hotel 2 weeks before getting a house I think I showed you some movies of Dani and your Mom playing in the backyard. We loved to take weekend trips like the one you will take this weekend with Dani and Rod to Murchison Falls Park. Dani used to laugh when I drove off the road to chase bush pigs. (bad!) I think this is why a few years ago he and my dog chased the sheep through a fence. Have fun at Murchison this weekend. Hope they sill have elephants and other animals feeding under th lights at night. Hold onto Danis hand so he doesnt chase the pigs. Love Grampa larry
White people being massacred... no one tells the Christmas Classics like Grampa Larry...Rod
Friday, December 14, 2007
Karma threatened by Dogma
Dear NDs
I believe we must find a sensible position on the nuclear power issue. While I try to use less energy (I walk my dog rather than drive a car for sheep roundup) and am subscribed to produce more wind power, the reality seems more energy demands coming from all sources including nuclear. As a layman I have tried to get information on this issue from 2 experts whom I know personally as honourable people, a nuclear medicine specialist and a geologist from this ND caucus. Both sources scoff when I pose a question on information from the other's assertions re nuclear plants. Last week the Doc dismissed the Geologist's letter as poor writing and then sent me a map showing no the active fault lines in Alberta, except along the Rockies. I sent the reference for the map to geologist. His reaction, "stick to ranching, something I know something about." (In fact my dog knows more about that than me). Like my honourable friends I am a grandfather concerned about the world I leave to my off spring. If I am left confused with dogmatic response to either believe me or get lost, what about the population our party hopes to convince?
We in the NDP need to debate this issue of nuclear power before making credible policy . So far I am putting my trust in the Pembina Institute for information. I request our next convention debate the issue, not, as in past, inviting only people who agree with the party. As the old Buddhist says our carma (sic) may be run over by our dogma
best in 08
larry
I believe we must find a sensible position on the nuclear power issue. While I try to use less energy (I walk my dog rather than drive a car for sheep roundup) and am subscribed to produce more wind power, the reality seems more energy demands coming from all sources including nuclear. As a layman I have tried to get information on this issue from 2 experts whom I know personally as honourable people, a nuclear medicine specialist and a geologist from this ND caucus. Both sources scoff when I pose a question on information from the other's assertions re nuclear plants. Last week the Doc dismissed the Geologist's letter as poor writing and then sent me a map showing no the active fault lines in Alberta, except along the Rockies. I sent the reference for the map to geologist. His reaction, "stick to ranching, something I know something about." (In fact my dog knows more about that than me). Like my honourable friends I am a grandfather concerned about the world I leave to my off spring. If I am left confused with dogmatic response to either believe me or get lost, what about the population our party hopes to convince?
We in the NDP need to debate this issue of nuclear power before making credible policy . So far I am putting my trust in the Pembina Institute for information. I request our next convention debate the issue, not, as in past, inviting only people who agree with the party. As the old Buddhist says our carma (sic) may be run over by our dogma
best in 08
larry
Monday, December 3, 2007
70 years ago
70 YEARS AGO MY PARENTS MARRIED IN NANTON
Mom said she first saw Dad hanging around the Sun Prairie Social Circle. He had come to Alberta from Cape Breton on a 1926 harvest excursion train ($50 plus half a cent per mile, he would say in his later years). It was a wet fall and his cousins and buddies rode the rods back to CB that winter. Because Dad had worked with horses he drove teams and that winter was hired to look after horses belonging to, Lougheed, a wealthy man. ("No loss when he died ," Dad would say) During a Dirty Thirties duststorm Dad found his way into Nanton by hanging onto a barbed wire fence. Meanwhile Mom, unable to become a teacher as she wished, met Dad at the Sun Prairie Social Circle . "I saw him alone and hanging around." she would tell us. Their first date was to see "Trail of the Lonesome Pine" at the Broxy Theatre in Nanton. They were married Dec 1 1937 in St Cecelia's Catholic Church annex since Dad would not convert. Mom was hurt since her father, who committed suicide when she was 11, had named both her and the church for his favourite saint. Adding salt in later years, Dad would say, "Worst thing I did was marry a Catholic." They honeymooned in B.C. and when Mom moved into the old Sun Prairie school house, a pile of dirty dishes awaited her. After Mom and Dad were gone, Uncle Barney showed me the Tapp house, a little shack near Grandma Kinney's farm where my parents and I spent my first winter in ‘38 as the school house was too hard to heat. Today going out to cut some wood for our stove I think of Dad making an overnight trip by horse and wagon to Timber Ridge. (He stayed the night with some fellow who played the fiddle). In his last year, I took Dad to the Carmengay Nursing Home 30 miles to the east of here. "I came here for coal," he remarked. "You must've gone to my grandfather's pit," the matron replied. ("Broken Victories," my story in Grain Magazine chronicles the difficult ending to Dad's life and the effort my siblings and I made to keep him at home after Mom decided, despite a risk to her heart, to allow him back home since the local nursing home was keeping him unconscious on strong drugs. After he broke his tailbone, we moved him to Carmengay and it was here Marilyn saw Mom kiss the top of his head and proclaim " I always did love you , you know," Soon she was dead and he would follow her in just 3 weeks. Seemed to me he had no reason to live without their long struggle to keep him going. They were the last of a breed, surviving and sacrificing so much for the 10 kids they produced. As I gather wood, I hear a wailing sound and look up at a V of geese heading south. I think of Grandma Kinney coming one spring from Illinois and upon seeing geese arriving deciding this must be a nice place. What did she think after the man she married killed himself and left her with 4 children to raise?
Mom said she first saw Dad hanging around the Sun Prairie Social Circle. He had come to Alberta from Cape Breton on a 1926 harvest excursion train ($50 plus half a cent per mile, he would say in his later years). It was a wet fall and his cousins and buddies rode the rods back to CB that winter. Because Dad had worked with horses he drove teams and that winter was hired to look after horses belonging to, Lougheed, a wealthy man. ("No loss when he died ," Dad would say) During a Dirty Thirties duststorm Dad found his way into Nanton by hanging onto a barbed wire fence. Meanwhile Mom, unable to become a teacher as she wished, met Dad at the Sun Prairie Social Circle . "I saw him alone and hanging around." she would tell us. Their first date was to see "Trail of the Lonesome Pine" at the Broxy Theatre in Nanton. They were married Dec 1 1937 in St Cecelia's Catholic Church annex since Dad would not convert. Mom was hurt since her father, who committed suicide when she was 11, had named both her and the church for his favourite saint. Adding salt in later years, Dad would say, "Worst thing I did was marry a Catholic." They honeymooned in B.C. and when Mom moved into the old Sun Prairie school house, a pile of dirty dishes awaited her. After Mom and Dad were gone, Uncle Barney showed me the Tapp house, a little shack near Grandma Kinney's farm where my parents and I spent my first winter in ‘38 as the school house was too hard to heat. Today going out to cut some wood for our stove I think of Dad making an overnight trip by horse and wagon to Timber Ridge. (He stayed the night with some fellow who played the fiddle). In his last year, I took Dad to the Carmengay Nursing Home 30 miles to the east of here. "I came here for coal," he remarked. "You must've gone to my grandfather's pit," the matron replied. ("Broken Victories," my story in Grain Magazine chronicles the difficult ending to Dad's life and the effort my siblings and I made to keep him at home after Mom decided, despite a risk to her heart, to allow him back home since the local nursing home was keeping him unconscious on strong drugs. After he broke his tailbone, we moved him to Carmengay and it was here Marilyn saw Mom kiss the top of his head and proclaim " I always did love you , you know," Soon she was dead and he would follow her in just 3 weeks. Seemed to me he had no reason to live without their long struggle to keep him going. They were the last of a breed, surviving and sacrificing so much for the 10 kids they produced. As I gather wood, I hear a wailing sound and look up at a V of geese heading south. I think of Grandma Kinney coming one spring from Illinois and upon seeing geese arriving deciding this must be a nice place. What did she think after the man she married killed himself and left her with 4 children to raise?
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Lying with dogs
Dear Editor
Karlheintz Schriever, who wants to avoid extradition to a Germany, claims he gave $300 thousand from Air Bus to Brian Mulroney. Mulroney, after hoping sleeping dogs lie, wants to clear his name. Stephen Harper, after buddying up to Harper, now wants to distance himself from the former PM. As a result we Canadians must spend $100 million for an inquiry we don't want. All this could've been avoided had the 2 prime ministers remembered this: if you lie down with dogs you get fleas.
Sincerely
larry macKillop
Nov 15 2007
Karlheintz Schriever, who wants to avoid extradition to a Germany, claims he gave $300 thousand from Air Bus to Brian Mulroney. Mulroney, after hoping sleeping dogs lie, wants to clear his name. Stephen Harper, after buddying up to Harper, now wants to distance himself from the former PM. As a result we Canadians must spend $100 million for an inquiry we don't want. All this could've been avoided had the 2 prime ministers remembered this: if you lie down with dogs you get fleas.
Sincerely
larry macKillop
Nov 15 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
Hebrides in my Genes
HADRIAN'S WALL Oct 9 07: We bade farewell to friends, who had brought us from Plymouth via their native Wales and the friends who put us up another 3 days in England's Lakes area (favourite of Linda's dad.) We saw not Wordsworth's daffodils but thousands of sheep on the beautiful Welsh mountainsides, stayed in a castle, toured the Roman city of Chester and visited a magnificent limestone formation in The Lakes area.
GLASGOW: We arrived at Central Station and schlepped our wheely bags to Adelaides BnB where a portly chap in rich Glaswegian said a Nancy MacKillop who worked here wanted to meet us "airly" before we left in the morning. We had tea with Dorian Stone, a fine young man from my hometown, High River. He claims to be content here, managing a Christian radio station the past 4 years. After a fine fish dinner, we returned to our BnB to hear male singing in the hall next door. As we entered a friendly little man insisted on seating us in front as audience for a rehearsal of the Glasgow Male Philharmonic Chorus. We invited them to come to Canada where we had seen the Wales Male Chorus. We bought their CD and left them singing "Joy to the World." That night we slept well despite the screaming of youths partying in the street. At 8 AM we met Nancy, who has no idea of her peoples origin. The taxi driver to Queen Street Station claimed locals here go hungry in Florida where no one understands them.
SCOTRAIL: Our 5 hour trip to Mallaig was stupendous with trees changing colours in sunlight, scenery to rival our B.C. Seated across from us were a farmer/ ironmonger couple on a day outing from Aberdeen. They were curious about our Alberta snowfall and farming. The man favoured separation due to the UK government blocking Scottish lamb sales since a hoof and mouth outbreak in England. They showed us where their daughter recently completed an Outward Bound course like her father when he was 16. He pointed to the locks built by Telford to allow ships through that huge cut through Scotland. He also showed us the Glenfinna Monument where the Jacobian (Gaelic for James) uprising began. When I said I was seeking the place my people left, he asked sadly " Because of the clearances?" A piper and some peat smoked haddock stew awaited us in Mallaig. We pulled our bags to a BnB and gazed over a lovely harbour where our ferry awaited.
OVER THE SEA TO SKYE: We disembarked next morning at Allmande in light rain. While we put on our yellow (smell like cheese) rain coats, we missed the bus. Pulling bags up the road we stopped to ask directions to Clan Donald Centre. A poker faced guy, a reminder of my brother Bill, said I should go one mile further, stop, turn and around and come back one mile to this spot. We had the Centre to ourselves for a history lesson on the Jacobian uprising. Seems Bonny Prince Charles (a playboy to some) returned from France and persuaded clan leaders to rise up against the English in order to restore King James, a Catholic but seen as the legitimate heir. They lost at Culloden, Charlie fled to Skye and the clans never recovered. The library suggested I take my questions on family origins to Bill Lawson in Harris. I had received his material from my nephew Scot MacKillop. We caught a bus to Portree, the main town on Skye. Our driver told us his son had been "blowing up Alberta" in training for Afghanistan. Since our Nanton friend had just lost her son there we changed topic to ask what he does if he hits one of the sheep grazing by the highway. "Be sure you kill it," he replied. We had another fine meal of Scottish grown mussels and went to the library to check on the health of Linda's mom. (OK) We chose a bus to Uig going clockwise around the island rather than one going anticlockwise. A young fiddler and girl friend from Virginia going to a concert were amazed Linda had lived in D.C. We found our BnB and again slept overlooking the harbor from which we would sail in the morning.
OUTER HEBRIDES, ANOTHER WORLD: Our wheelies bounced over gravel to the ferry terminal and into a van driven by John MacKenzie, an elderly character (and bagpiper) we were destined to meet again. Linda offered to shut the side door but he said it was automatic, hit the brakes to slam the door shut, giving all a good laugh. We sailed on Cal Mac's "Hebrides:" from Uig to Lochmaddy, North Uist. Excitement was provided when a local lad hit the jackpot on the machine near us. Lochmaddy has the only bank machine in the area and we knew cash was preferred here. We caught a local van/bus whose lone passenger was a man I've seen in many old Irish films. We crossed the causeway from Uist to Bernary. Everyone knew where Splash MacKillop lived and we were dropped at the road to his BnB As we trekked through treeless land it felt like some Indian reserves back home. No one home at the croft but the porch was open and well stocked with great photo books.
BURNSIDE CROFT BnB: Gloria MacKillop arrived and put us in a room where H.R.H. Prince Charles slept (his "Charles" was entered in the guest book) while here to open the causeway between Uist and Bernary. Don Alic (Splash) MacKillop and I looked into each others blue (Viking?) eyes and we made small talk as Gloria served tea and oat cakes, which Splash claims to be aphrodisiacs. Crofting is a unique system that gives you a small piece of land and share of a community pasture. People must do something else to survive like run a BnB. This place reminded me of my grandparents small farm in Cape Breton where Dad as a boy sold vegetables and milk in Sydney.. Since there are no restaurants here, Gloria arranged for a woman to cook us dinner in her home. She and husband served a fine meal of poached (farm) salmon and he lamented most fish from up here being shipped by truck and ferry to Spain. I wondered why he would not make an arrangement with local fisherman but, being English, and living here only 15 years.... After dinner we talked about our respective trips to India where he once worked. She said they moved from South England because the foreigners committed crime there. (I wasted time arguing this and the reality of global warming)
GENE TALK: Back at the BnB, over a wee dram, Splash (as a kid he splashed through puddles) told stories. He does the address to the haggis each Rabbie Burns night. He and Gloria sang us a song about porridge we learned (and forgot) during a one hour Gaelic course in Cape Breton. Splash and Gloria have been to Delia, Alberta and Cape Breton where he was disappointed no one spoke his (and my grandparents') first language. I shared the genealogy information Scot had handed me en route to the Calgary airport . It seems about 1750 Donald Og (the younger in Gaelic) MacKillop of Bernary had 3 sons, one from whom I descend) and Norman, the name of Splash's father. During the clearances, a Roderick sailed for Cape Breton Norman's (Splash's) line stayed here. Scot, my nephew, is working on this theory. "Slange va" according to Splash is good night in Gaelic ("Irish speak Gaylick while the Scots speak "Gallic," he added). Gloria is an Australian who came here as the nurse 40 years ago. Recently, at 73, she went backpacking with a young group in Pategonia. Now with her detached cornea she seems unlikely to venture further than Inverness where Splash was treated for colon cancer. Her dream is to finish building a self catering cottage next door to her house and stop BnB (except for family she said).
BERNARY: MACKILLOP LAND: Next day Gloria arranged for Andrew, a nice young man from Oxfordshire, to take us on a tour. He and his wife operate a BnB and work from here by Internet. It was his first tour and we urged him to make it a side business. He drove an old Mercedes like the one my brother John has. We visited the 7 foot 9 inch monument (his height) to Angus MacCaskill, a giant famous in 1800's Cape Breton. At the cemetery nearby I met a nephew of Splash whose mother was a MacKillop. Andrew took us to the library and historical centre where I checked email (Linda's mom still okay) and we bought a dvd they had made (doesn't work on my machine). Next we went to the other side of the island where an old black (peat burning) house had been made into a youth hostel. There were remains of houses on the rocky beach where the poor bastards had been relocated from the other side of the island (where Splash lives.) They made a living collecting kelp for fertilizer and farming shallow beds of soil on a nearby mountain side. Vertical lines of these so called "lazy beds" are still visible. We stopped in sight of the old cemetery where my great greats must be buried beneath the unmarked stones. Linda and Andrew waited as I hopped the fence and jogged across the soft pasture. The rock wall was covered in orange lichen and the open gate revealed sheep were the main visitors. I entered, wandered through the stones and looked out to the sea pondering what life was like for those who lived here and those who left for a new life in Canada.
END OF THE LINE: We planned to cross over to Harris and travel up through Lewis, see the Callanish Stones predating Stonehenge and then fly to Edinburgh. But the "Free" Church of Scotland closes all hotels and even buses on Sundays up there. Splash says those people are not well liked here (someone said they even cover the roosters so not to crow on Sunday). Rather than lose a day in Edinburgh we reversed directions. I would like to have seen Harris where my MacKillops lived 2 years before sailing. I wanted to buy a genuine Harris tweed cap here from a crofter. Findlay MacDonald describes in "Crowdie and Cream" how they kept pee tubs to fix the wool with lichen dye and make this cloth. Once the women used pee to douse a landlord who was preventing them from growing food. I hope my Harris Tweed cap from Uist doesn't bring home the smell!
HOMEWARD: Sunday morning after helping Splash chase some cows out of the community centre parking lot, we had breakfast (porridge of course). Inside the centre he showed me a photo in the centre of his father, Norman Patterson MacKillop and other crofters. Splash pulled on his rubber boots to go check his sheep along with Effie. (same name as my Grandma MacKillop). This Effie is a wildly natural crofter from next door whom I met earlier digging tatties (spuds) with Splash. Gloria drove us to the ferry and rushed to hold it while we purchased tickets. "God bless," she said as I kissed her farewell. Splash and I had both found angels to look after us.
FLYING OVER SKYE: We arrived back in Uig hoping to catch the train to Inverness on the other side of Skye. John MacKenzie, who took us to the terminal office, said no regular buses ran on Sunday. What about a taxi? He looked nervously at his watch and said it would be tight. He agreed on a price of 60 pounds and, after trying to phone for a faster car, took off his flat cap and sped us away. He flew right across the Isle of Skye in 90 minutes, cursing slow moving ferry traffic until we crossed the causeway and boarded the train from Kyle of Lochash.
HIGHLANDS: Another trip through heaven as the afternoon scenery unfolded in our train window. There was still some purple in the heather with brownish bracken around. We will never forget the mountains and rivers and sheep grazing amongst clumps of heather.
INVERNESS: Lonely Planet lists a good restaurant in a hotel so I phoned there. Despite the drunken kids in kilts singing and lurching through the station I heard a price of 70 pounds (same as a BnB) and got directions. We drug our bags to a McDonalds and asked for help from a Polish server who got her manager to explain but I understood the Pole better. We landed in a vintage hotel on the Ness River, as close to Loch Ness as we wanted to be. The room had an old intercom from earlier days and no elevator. We had a fine supper of scallops and retired to look at the moonlit river. Next morning for breakfast our Polish waitress brought me the Highlander (haggis) instead of the Islander (kippers). One for the kipper? I found haggis to be as terrible as the blood pudding I had in Wales.
LAST LEG: We drug our bags (good exercise?) to Inverness station noting a monument to soldiers in Khartoum (is there anywhere Brits have not fought?) On a morning train to Edinburgh we saw more pastoral scenery until Perth when it became farmland. At Waverley Station , Edinburgh, we went to a last minute hotel booth where a young woman from Montreal (I know a song about her) found us a hotel deal. The Parliament House Hotel, where MPs stay during session, normally charges 210 pounds per night but we were in for 70. The J in front of our room number meant it was in the older Jacobean section (no elevator for us to escape). The Scottish manageress was a reminder of Linda's first grade teacher, Miss Wooly worm, but she warmed after Linda made her laugh.
EDINBURGH is the favourite city of Linda's mom and we now know why. We hit the National Gallery first day for some Impressionist paintings. One Monet impressed Linda while I stared at a van Gogh some elegant lady proclaimed "so van Goish!." When I asked why, she replied, " It jumps out at you." A bored attendant showed me the hidden rooster in the painting which both agreed might "jump out at you." He told me about his time in Halifax as a naval engineer when almost staying to marry a sweet young local. Walking home we passed the monument to Sir Walter Scott, pointing like a Hindu temple into the grey sky.
The Castle sits on its volcanic butt overlooking city, land and sea beyond. We looked over to the island where Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned before escaping to seek help from her cousin Elizabeth. I entered its underground prison for an idea of what it was like to be incarcerated while Linda (she does not like caves) waited to see if I got out. About 9000 years ago hunters came here and through the bronze age tribes may have watched Roman legions going past to fight the Highanders (before Hadrian walled them out.). Later came the Angles, Normans, Robert the Bruce, James II, etc. In 1689 Jacobites made a last siege here before the Battle of Culloden ended their cause and Prince Charlie fled to Skye. William and Mary (James' protestant daughter) were crowned and the Act of Union followed in 1707. Last year Scotland voted for the Scottish Nationalist Party, but like Quebec, seems unlikely to choose separation. (they'll continue to cheer against English teams).
The Royal Mile was touristy but we ducked into side streets to find such interesting places as where Rabbie (Burns) had his poetry published. Linda spotted a factory outlet and, by asking for seconds, was directed into a back room where the price of a blanket dropped by 10 pounds. She is more Scotch than me.
That night we strolled to the Mussel Inn for a kilo of fine Scottish mussels. The place was full of young people and later we again heard the screaming of drunken youth. (The government has asked the author of "Train Spotting" for help on this matter. I think a bigger problem is the 1 million Scots admitting they pay their mortgage with a credit card!) On the way back we saw the castle lit up like the Acropolis in Athens. Too tired for theatre or a pub we stayed in and watched Billy Conolly, a Scot comic describing his visit to Ireland and those oppressed but feisty folk (the many meetings between Irish and Hebrides people as well as Norse suggest my genes were molded around the Irish Sea.
Last day, after a breakfast of porridge and smoked haddock (pancakes for Linda) we headed for the Royal Museum of Scotland. We first entered a cathedral housing the covenant of the Church of Scotland. Jennifer MacMillan, a ticket seller who has studied the subject, told us more "witches" were burned here than anywhere in history. Most were women with sharp tongues whose female opponents could afford lawyers to make convictions. I suggested feminists might not like such an answer. "No," she replied with the sly smile of someone who enjoys going against the grain. Meeting gems like her is the reason I travel!
The Museum has exhibits from stone age to the current, including sailing ships, working steam engines and flour mills. It is a place I'd love to take my grandkids. Our final treat was to see some of Picasso's pottery and paintings. I loved "Woman at the Window" with one pair of eyes staring into a street and another pair staring at the viewer.
We had a final lunch at a favourite cafe, collected our bags and caught the bus to an airport hotel. While other guests ate steak and chips at 20 pounds a plate and watched England and Scotland lose soccer matches, we had left over bread and cheese (that why the raincoats stink!
At 4 am the alarm beeped and we began the journey home. I thought it prudent to allow 4 hours for a terminal change in Heathrow but most of that time was consumed awaiting bags (they made us check our carry ons) and security check after security check before we were off to Calgary. I scored 4 empty seats and slept while Linda looked at the ice of Greenland and Labrador below her window. We hit Calgary rush hour traffic and were not home until 6 PM (a 22 hour day of travel). We were glad to find our plants and animals okay and our flock of 10 sheep safe in the barnyard.
Mountains divide us and a waste of seas;
yet still the blood is strong;
the heart is Highland and we in dreams
behold the Hebrides.
Canadian Boat song circa 1829
Postscript: After Linda finished editing this pile of...we scattered manure over the garden. As I rototilled the soil, up popped a dozen missed "tatties" to add to our home grown supper of lamb chops and lettuce. Mother Earth and the Hebrides gene have been very good to me.
GLASGOW: We arrived at Central Station and schlepped our wheely bags to Adelaides BnB where a portly chap in rich Glaswegian said a Nancy MacKillop who worked here wanted to meet us "airly" before we left in the morning. We had tea with Dorian Stone, a fine young man from my hometown, High River. He claims to be content here, managing a Christian radio station the past 4 years. After a fine fish dinner, we returned to our BnB to hear male singing in the hall next door. As we entered a friendly little man insisted on seating us in front as audience for a rehearsal of the Glasgow Male Philharmonic Chorus. We invited them to come to Canada where we had seen the Wales Male Chorus. We bought their CD and left them singing "Joy to the World." That night we slept well despite the screaming of youths partying in the street. At 8 AM we met Nancy, who has no idea of her peoples origin. The taxi driver to Queen Street Station claimed locals here go hungry in Florida where no one understands them.
SCOTRAIL: Our 5 hour trip to Mallaig was stupendous with trees changing colours in sunlight, scenery to rival our B.C. Seated across from us were a farmer/ ironmonger couple on a day outing from Aberdeen. They were curious about our Alberta snowfall and farming. The man favoured separation due to the UK government blocking Scottish lamb sales since a hoof and mouth outbreak in England. They showed us where their daughter recently completed an Outward Bound course like her father when he was 16. He pointed to the locks built by Telford to allow ships through that huge cut through Scotland. He also showed us the Glenfinna Monument where the Jacobian (Gaelic for James) uprising began. When I said I was seeking the place my people left, he asked sadly " Because of the clearances?" A piper and some peat smoked haddock stew awaited us in Mallaig. We pulled our bags to a BnB and gazed over a lovely harbour where our ferry awaited.
OVER THE SEA TO SKYE: We disembarked next morning at Allmande in light rain. While we put on our yellow (smell like cheese) rain coats, we missed the bus. Pulling bags up the road we stopped to ask directions to Clan Donald Centre. A poker faced guy, a reminder of my brother Bill, said I should go one mile further, stop, turn and around and come back one mile to this spot. We had the Centre to ourselves for a history lesson on the Jacobian uprising. Seems Bonny Prince Charles (a playboy to some) returned from France and persuaded clan leaders to rise up against the English in order to restore King James, a Catholic but seen as the legitimate heir. They lost at Culloden, Charlie fled to Skye and the clans never recovered. The library suggested I take my questions on family origins to Bill Lawson in Harris. I had received his material from my nephew Scot MacKillop. We caught a bus to Portree, the main town on Skye. Our driver told us his son had been "blowing up Alberta" in training for Afghanistan. Since our Nanton friend had just lost her son there we changed topic to ask what he does if he hits one of the sheep grazing by the highway. "Be sure you kill it," he replied. We had another fine meal of Scottish grown mussels and went to the library to check on the health of Linda's mom. (OK) We chose a bus to Uig going clockwise around the island rather than one going anticlockwise. A young fiddler and girl friend from Virginia going to a concert were amazed Linda had lived in D.C. We found our BnB and again slept overlooking the harbor from which we would sail in the morning.
OUTER HEBRIDES, ANOTHER WORLD: Our wheelies bounced over gravel to the ferry terminal and into a van driven by John MacKenzie, an elderly character (and bagpiper) we were destined to meet again. Linda offered to shut the side door but he said it was automatic, hit the brakes to slam the door shut, giving all a good laugh. We sailed on Cal Mac's "Hebrides:" from Uig to Lochmaddy, North Uist. Excitement was provided when a local lad hit the jackpot on the machine near us. Lochmaddy has the only bank machine in the area and we knew cash was preferred here. We caught a local van/bus whose lone passenger was a man I've seen in many old Irish films. We crossed the causeway from Uist to Bernary. Everyone knew where Splash MacKillop lived and we were dropped at the road to his BnB As we trekked through treeless land it felt like some Indian reserves back home. No one home at the croft but the porch was open and well stocked with great photo books.
BURNSIDE CROFT BnB: Gloria MacKillop arrived and put us in a room where H.R.H. Prince Charles slept (his "Charles" was entered in the guest book) while here to open the causeway between Uist and Bernary. Don Alic (Splash) MacKillop and I looked into each others blue (Viking?) eyes and we made small talk as Gloria served tea and oat cakes, which Splash claims to be aphrodisiacs. Crofting is a unique system that gives you a small piece of land and share of a community pasture. People must do something else to survive like run a BnB. This place reminded me of my grandparents small farm in Cape Breton where Dad as a boy sold vegetables and milk in Sydney.. Since there are no restaurants here, Gloria arranged for a woman to cook us dinner in her home. She and husband served a fine meal of poached (farm) salmon and he lamented most fish from up here being shipped by truck and ferry to Spain. I wondered why he would not make an arrangement with local fisherman but, being English, and living here only 15 years.... After dinner we talked about our respective trips to India where he once worked. She said they moved from South England because the foreigners committed crime there. (I wasted time arguing this and the reality of global warming)
GENE TALK: Back at the BnB, over a wee dram, Splash (as a kid he splashed through puddles) told stories. He does the address to the haggis each Rabbie Burns night. He and Gloria sang us a song about porridge we learned (and forgot) during a one hour Gaelic course in Cape Breton. Splash and Gloria have been to Delia, Alberta and Cape Breton where he was disappointed no one spoke his (and my grandparents') first language. I shared the genealogy information Scot had handed me en route to the Calgary airport . It seems about 1750 Donald Og (the younger in Gaelic) MacKillop of Bernary had 3 sons, one from whom I descend) and Norman, the name of Splash's father. During the clearances, a Roderick sailed for Cape Breton Norman's (Splash's) line stayed here. Scot, my nephew, is working on this theory. "Slange va" according to Splash is good night in Gaelic ("Irish speak Gaylick while the Scots speak "Gallic," he added). Gloria is an Australian who came here as the nurse 40 years ago. Recently, at 73, she went backpacking with a young group in Pategonia. Now with her detached cornea she seems unlikely to venture further than Inverness where Splash was treated for colon cancer. Her dream is to finish building a self catering cottage next door to her house and stop BnB (except for family she said).
BERNARY: MACKILLOP LAND: Next day Gloria arranged for Andrew, a nice young man from Oxfordshire, to take us on a tour. He and his wife operate a BnB and work from here by Internet. It was his first tour and we urged him to make it a side business. He drove an old Mercedes like the one my brother John has. We visited the 7 foot 9 inch monument (his height) to Angus MacCaskill, a giant famous in 1800's Cape Breton. At the cemetery nearby I met a nephew of Splash whose mother was a MacKillop. Andrew took us to the library and historical centre where I checked email (Linda's mom still okay) and we bought a dvd they had made (doesn't work on my machine). Next we went to the other side of the island where an old black (peat burning) house had been made into a youth hostel. There were remains of houses on the rocky beach where the poor bastards had been relocated from the other side of the island (where Splash lives.) They made a living collecting kelp for fertilizer and farming shallow beds of soil on a nearby mountain side. Vertical lines of these so called "lazy beds" are still visible. We stopped in sight of the old cemetery where my great greats must be buried beneath the unmarked stones. Linda and Andrew waited as I hopped the fence and jogged across the soft pasture. The rock wall was covered in orange lichen and the open gate revealed sheep were the main visitors. I entered, wandered through the stones and looked out to the sea pondering what life was like for those who lived here and those who left for a new life in Canada.
END OF THE LINE: We planned to cross over to Harris and travel up through Lewis, see the Callanish Stones predating Stonehenge and then fly to Edinburgh. But the "Free" Church of Scotland closes all hotels and even buses on Sundays up there. Splash says those people are not well liked here (someone said they even cover the roosters so not to crow on Sunday). Rather than lose a day in Edinburgh we reversed directions. I would like to have seen Harris where my MacKillops lived 2 years before sailing. I wanted to buy a genuine Harris tweed cap here from a crofter. Findlay MacDonald describes in "Crowdie and Cream" how they kept pee tubs to fix the wool with lichen dye and make this cloth. Once the women used pee to douse a landlord who was preventing them from growing food. I hope my Harris Tweed cap from Uist doesn't bring home the smell!
HOMEWARD: Sunday morning after helping Splash chase some cows out of the community centre parking lot, we had breakfast (porridge of course). Inside the centre he showed me a photo in the centre of his father, Norman Patterson MacKillop and other crofters. Splash pulled on his rubber boots to go check his sheep along with Effie. (same name as my Grandma MacKillop). This Effie is a wildly natural crofter from next door whom I met earlier digging tatties (spuds) with Splash. Gloria drove us to the ferry and rushed to hold it while we purchased tickets. "God bless," she said as I kissed her farewell. Splash and I had both found angels to look after us.
FLYING OVER SKYE: We arrived back in Uig hoping to catch the train to Inverness on the other side of Skye. John MacKenzie, who took us to the terminal office, said no regular buses ran on Sunday. What about a taxi? He looked nervously at his watch and said it would be tight. He agreed on a price of 60 pounds and, after trying to phone for a faster car, took off his flat cap and sped us away. He flew right across the Isle of Skye in 90 minutes, cursing slow moving ferry traffic until we crossed the causeway and boarded the train from Kyle of Lochash.
HIGHLANDS: Another trip through heaven as the afternoon scenery unfolded in our train window. There was still some purple in the heather with brownish bracken around. We will never forget the mountains and rivers and sheep grazing amongst clumps of heather.
INVERNESS: Lonely Planet lists a good restaurant in a hotel so I phoned there. Despite the drunken kids in kilts singing and lurching through the station I heard a price of 70 pounds (same as a BnB) and got directions. We drug our bags to a McDonalds and asked for help from a Polish server who got her manager to explain but I understood the Pole better. We landed in a vintage hotel on the Ness River, as close to Loch Ness as we wanted to be. The room had an old intercom from earlier days and no elevator. We had a fine supper of scallops and retired to look at the moonlit river. Next morning for breakfast our Polish waitress brought me the Highlander (haggis) instead of the Islander (kippers). One for the kipper? I found haggis to be as terrible as the blood pudding I had in Wales.
LAST LEG: We drug our bags (good exercise?) to Inverness station noting a monument to soldiers in Khartoum (is there anywhere Brits have not fought?) On a morning train to Edinburgh we saw more pastoral scenery until Perth when it became farmland. At Waverley Station , Edinburgh, we went to a last minute hotel booth where a young woman from Montreal (I know a song about her) found us a hotel deal. The Parliament House Hotel, where MPs stay during session, normally charges 210 pounds per night but we were in for 70. The J in front of our room number meant it was in the older Jacobean section (no elevator for us to escape). The Scottish manageress was a reminder of Linda's first grade teacher, Miss Wooly worm, but she warmed after Linda made her laugh.
EDINBURGH is the favourite city of Linda's mom and we now know why. We hit the National Gallery first day for some Impressionist paintings. One Monet impressed Linda while I stared at a van Gogh some elegant lady proclaimed "so van Goish!." When I asked why, she replied, " It jumps out at you." A bored attendant showed me the hidden rooster in the painting which both agreed might "jump out at you." He told me about his time in Halifax as a naval engineer when almost staying to marry a sweet young local. Walking home we passed the monument to Sir Walter Scott, pointing like a Hindu temple into the grey sky.
The Castle sits on its volcanic butt overlooking city, land and sea beyond. We looked over to the island where Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned before escaping to seek help from her cousin Elizabeth. I entered its underground prison for an idea of what it was like to be incarcerated while Linda (she does not like caves) waited to see if I got out. About 9000 years ago hunters came here and through the bronze age tribes may have watched Roman legions going past to fight the Highanders (before Hadrian walled them out.). Later came the Angles, Normans, Robert the Bruce, James II, etc. In 1689 Jacobites made a last siege here before the Battle of Culloden ended their cause and Prince Charlie fled to Skye. William and Mary (James' protestant daughter) were crowned and the Act of Union followed in 1707. Last year Scotland voted for the Scottish Nationalist Party, but like Quebec, seems unlikely to choose separation. (they'll continue to cheer against English teams).
The Royal Mile was touristy but we ducked into side streets to find such interesting places as where Rabbie (Burns) had his poetry published. Linda spotted a factory outlet and, by asking for seconds, was directed into a back room where the price of a blanket dropped by 10 pounds. She is more Scotch than me.
That night we strolled to the Mussel Inn for a kilo of fine Scottish mussels. The place was full of young people and later we again heard the screaming of drunken youth. (The government has asked the author of "Train Spotting" for help on this matter. I think a bigger problem is the 1 million Scots admitting they pay their mortgage with a credit card!) On the way back we saw the castle lit up like the Acropolis in Athens. Too tired for theatre or a pub we stayed in and watched Billy Conolly, a Scot comic describing his visit to Ireland and those oppressed but feisty folk (the many meetings between Irish and Hebrides people as well as Norse suggest my genes were molded around the Irish Sea.
Last day, after a breakfast of porridge and smoked haddock (pancakes for Linda) we headed for the Royal Museum of Scotland. We first entered a cathedral housing the covenant of the Church of Scotland. Jennifer MacMillan, a ticket seller who has studied the subject, told us more "witches" were burned here than anywhere in history. Most were women with sharp tongues whose female opponents could afford lawyers to make convictions. I suggested feminists might not like such an answer. "No," she replied with the sly smile of someone who enjoys going against the grain. Meeting gems like her is the reason I travel!
The Museum has exhibits from stone age to the current, including sailing ships, working steam engines and flour mills. It is a place I'd love to take my grandkids. Our final treat was to see some of Picasso's pottery and paintings. I loved "Woman at the Window" with one pair of eyes staring into a street and another pair staring at the viewer.
We had a final lunch at a favourite cafe, collected our bags and caught the bus to an airport hotel. While other guests ate steak and chips at 20 pounds a plate and watched England and Scotland lose soccer matches, we had left over bread and cheese (that why the raincoats stink!
At 4 am the alarm beeped and we began the journey home. I thought it prudent to allow 4 hours for a terminal change in Heathrow but most of that time was consumed awaiting bags (they made us check our carry ons) and security check after security check before we were off to Calgary. I scored 4 empty seats and slept while Linda looked at the ice of Greenland and Labrador below her window. We hit Calgary rush hour traffic and were not home until 6 PM (a 22 hour day of travel). We were glad to find our plants and animals okay and our flock of 10 sheep safe in the barnyard.
Mountains divide us and a waste of seas;
yet still the blood is strong;
the heart is Highland and we in dreams
behold the Hebrides.
Canadian Boat song circa 1829
Postscript: After Linda finished editing this pile of...we scattered manure over the garden. As I rototilled the soil, up popped a dozen missed "tatties" to add to our home grown supper of lamb chops and lettuce. Mother Earth and the Hebrides gene have been very good to me.
Friday, October 26, 2007
LETTER TO EDITOR
Oct 26 07
Oil companies threaten to slow down production if forced to pay more royalties in Stellmach's compromise between them and the revue panel's suggestions. This increase would put add another billion dollars onto our annual surpluses in future years. Meanwhile Alberta oil sands in 2 years will be the largest carbon dioxide producer on this planet. We already know this contributes to the global warming causing ice melting, flooding and drought. Where millions now face starvation, it will be billions of people in a few years. This all puts us Albertans in a unique position of being able to save or at least prolong the life of our planet for future generations by slowing the mad rate of oil production. For this reason and not for greed, we should look into the eyes of our children and grandchildren, then demand the government hike royalties at least 20 per cent as recommended by the review panel. Sincerely larry mackillop
Oil companies threaten to slow down production if forced to pay more royalties in Stellmach's compromise between them and the revue panel's suggestions. This increase would put add another billion dollars onto our annual surpluses in future years. Meanwhile Alberta oil sands in 2 years will be the largest carbon dioxide producer on this planet. We already know this contributes to the global warming causing ice melting, flooding and drought. Where millions now face starvation, it will be billions of people in a few years. This all puts us Albertans in a unique position of being able to save or at least prolong the life of our planet for future generations by slowing the mad rate of oil production. For this reason and not for greed, we should look into the eyes of our children and grandchildren, then demand the government hike royalties at least 20 per cent as recommended by the review panel. Sincerely larry mackillop
Friday, September 28, 2007
HERDING CATS
Getting ready for winter has been accelerated by a departure for London this coming Saturday.
Lloyd picked up the remaining Frankensteer from a neighbour's corral and the fields are empty (except for turds that Emma chews on) More difficult was our round of cat depopulation. We have been catching screaming, scratching kittens that the grandkids played with this summer. We sent 2 home with a mother and little girl, 2 to Lloyd's barn, 2 under Colin's trailer, 2 to Heaven Can Wait (plus a $200 donation for spaying) and 2 to the Parkers in Bragg Creek who supply us with spruce trees from their lovely property. They wanted ONE kitten for their dog to play with and luckily Emma has been carrying kittens in her mouth. After a great lunch we left Parkers with 2 bags of manure, a half lamb and 2 kittens and 10 spruce trees in our car. One kitten was already playing with the dog and one still lodged under their bed. (Has since come out for food.) As I had been bitten through my glove by it that morning I stayed away from it. And finally we took one of 2 mother cats to be spayed. Hopefully she is not killed by coyotes as was Goldie 3 weeks after being spayed). I blame my expenses on cat loving Rod in Darfur as he made a fuss when I used to drown kittens. Yesterday we planted the new trees in our wind brake as light rain fell. We worked like crazy (chest pains!) and later took one last drive into the empty fields. As Linda picked some blue flowers that always persist this late, Emma checked out gopher holes and coyote scat. We noted shrubs and trees along the coulee turning yellow/orange and concurred with our Dr, Adam, we do live in Nirvana. Last night Linda brought in 12 more ears of corn for a feast, along with goulash made from one of Lloyd's normal steers.
Now to pack our 2 carry on bags and get to the airport by Sat 6 PM for a flight my kids often take to direct to London . Sunday we arrive by coach at the home of Uganda friends the Thomases in Plymouth to plan a week long trip with them through their native Wales to England's Lakes country. Then we go on our own into Scotland, our destination the Isle of Harris from whence sailed the MacKillops of Cape Breton.
Wish I knew more Gaelic.
On a sad note, our friend Linda's son was killed in Afghanistan this week. When I saw her last week she was dropping branches at recycling before going to a non violence communication course. We dedicated a spruce tree facing SW towards the coulee as Nathan's tree.
Getting ready for winter has been accelerated by a departure for London this coming Saturday.
Lloyd picked up the remaining Frankensteer from a neighbour's corral and the fields are empty (except for turds that Emma chews on) More difficult was our round of cat depopulation. We have been catching screaming, scratching kittens that the grandkids played with this summer. We sent 2 home with a mother and little girl, 2 to Lloyd's barn, 2 under Colin's trailer, 2 to Heaven Can Wait (plus a $200 donation for spaying) and 2 to the Parkers in Bragg Creek who supply us with spruce trees from their lovely property. They wanted ONE kitten for their dog to play with and luckily Emma has been carrying kittens in her mouth. After a great lunch we left Parkers with 2 bags of manure, a half lamb and 2 kittens and 10 spruce trees in our car. One kitten was already playing with the dog and one still lodged under their bed. (Has since come out for food.) As I had been bitten through my glove by it that morning I stayed away from it. And finally we took one of 2 mother cats to be spayed. Hopefully she is not killed by coyotes as was Goldie 3 weeks after being spayed). I blame my expenses on cat loving Rod in Darfur as he made a fuss when I used to drown kittens. Yesterday we planted the new trees in our wind brake as light rain fell. We worked like crazy (chest pains!) and later took one last drive into the empty fields. As Linda picked some blue flowers that always persist this late, Emma checked out gopher holes and coyote scat. We noted shrubs and trees along the coulee turning yellow/orange and concurred with our Dr, Adam, we do live in Nirvana. Last night Linda brought in 12 more ears of corn for a feast, along with goulash made from one of Lloyd's normal steers.
Now to pack our 2 carry on bags and get to the airport by Sat 6 PM for a flight my kids often take to direct to London . Sunday we arrive by coach at the home of Uganda friends the Thomases in Plymouth to plan a week long trip with them through their native Wales to England's Lakes country. Then we go on our own into Scotland, our destination the Isle of Harris from whence sailed the MacKillops of Cape Breton.
Wish I knew more Gaelic.
On a sad note, our friend Linda's son was killed in Afghanistan this week. When I saw her last week she was dropping branches at recycling before going to a non violence communication course. We dedicated a spruce tree facing SW towards the coulee as Nathan's tree.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
GATHERING UP
Today the Frankensteers left on 2 cattleliners. Has been tense the past few weeks as we searched the coulee for the 2 missing. Turns out they had been put back in our field by neighbour, Mr. Hawk. It is always a big event when the cattle are gathered up and loaded onto trucks for the journey back to High River. In this case the steers go to the feedlot to be weighed and Lloyd will be paid by the pounds they gained while here. I put my remaining 8 lambs into Lloyd's stock trailer to be dropped at the High River Auction Mart for a sale tomorrow. Apparently lamb prices are quite high now so I'm on the lamb!
Now Linda and I can get back to the garden harvest. Most of our potatoes are down the well pit and we have been brining in beans, zucchini and beets to make spaghetti sauce and borscht which we eat and put into the freezer.
Many jobs to do, water trees again before freeze up, wash windows, fence deer out of trees, cut wood for the stove, etc. Hard life. I hate it!
Now Linda and I can get back to the garden harvest. Most of our potatoes are down the well pit and we have been brining in beans, zucchini and beets to make spaghetti sauce and borscht which we eat and put into the freezer.
Many jobs to do, water trees again before freeze up, wash windows, fence deer out of trees, cut wood for the stove, etc. Hard life. I hate it!
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
BRINGING IN THE SHEEP (SIC)
Labour Day 07. Lambs have been growing since they arrived last spring. Two died of cold weather and 2 were snatched by cougars. I drove to High River to get Lloyd's truck and trailer. He had gone combining peas but left the unit set to go. When I got back home Linda had all the lambs (she thought) in the barnyard but a quick count revealed 5 missing. Nice try guys, I said as I chased them out of the old pig barn. We got the 8 biggest lambs loaded and ear tagged them. The Cdn government, in its wisdom (sic), insists any sheep shipped have a pink tag. I don't mind paying the $1.30 each, it's the pointless cruelty of stabbing them when no record is taken of this process. One could pull tags out of a dead animals and reuse them. This money grab on pretext of making us safe (sic) from mad cow disease (sick) is similar to planting a tree to off set carbon cost of an air flight. Leaving the barnyard, I noted all mothers grazing except for one ewe answering her son's bleating from the trailer. I have ewes grieve after the loss of a lamb at birth but seldom at this point. Linda and I drove to High River and with her directions (bad), I back into the unloading chute at the meat processing plant in the middle of High River. I shoved the terrified lambs into a pig smelling pen next to 4 horned steers (that's 4 steers with horns). I recalled meeting a sheep farmer named Stump here and hearing him assure his lambs they were going to a better place. (He should've been a minister.) We drove to Lloyd's, arriving as he came from the field in a big grain truck. Being Labour Day, the farmer was on his own while his son and nephew were off partying elsewhere. He had to combine peas, fill his truck and then unload it. (Must've been the same for Dad when I was home to help him). Lloyd made us tea and told us of his recent fishing trip to BC with son and nephew. He promised the Frankensteers would leave this week. We arrived home to find the ewes and steers still grazing in the last light of the day.
Today I smelled crab apples on the wood stove as I came into the kitchen . I took Linda a coffee in bed and anticipated the beginning of her jelly making. I will add sheep manure and rototill the garden since spuds have been dug and stored down the well pit. Once again I note our green ash trees yellowing and hear myself mutter, "Give me another summer, please!"
Today I smelled crab apples on the wood stove as I came into the kitchen . I took Linda a coffee in bed and anticipated the beginning of her jelly making. I will add sheep manure and rototill the garden since spuds have been dug and stored down the well pit. Once again I note our green ash trees yellowing and hear myself mutter, "Give me another summer, please!"
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Agriculture vrs "Development"
Dear Editor
The Twin Valley Resort project proposed for the Little bow Reservoir has drawn a line drawn between farming and development. Seems everytime the government tells us that a new dam will benefit agriculture, we end up with another subdivision around a "lake." This "lake" came with the added cost of $80 million to relocate a Hutterite colony. Twin Valley Resort now wants to put 360 condos around this "lake. Their huge Calgary lawyer reminded me of Goliath as he roared for and hour and a half against the idea of council interfering with their public access to this area. A dozen farmers sat quietly in the back rows listening to how unfit their land was for agriculture. I wondered where Goliath thought his dinner came from. He stressed the added tax revenue that would come into the area with this development and suggested the fire risk would be held in check by high insurance rates. As for increased road traffic, the condos owners would take the longer highway route in from highway 2 rather than short cut by the old road. When Goliath finished it was time for lunch, perhaps his strategy since only 5 of us returned in the afternoon. Many, like Nanton's Mayor Blake, had other meetings and harvesting demands. Blake left written questions about the increased demands on volunteer fire department, ambulance and police services from this development larger than the town of Stavely. Before any protestors could speak, Goliath demanded 30 letters in support of the project be read into record. I recognized some names from the Silver Willow Lodge but others were from as far away as Sherwood Park. (shareholders?) Finally at 1:30 PM, neighbours to this project, Gerald Lyon, Diana Andrews and her daughter, spoke on behalf of themselves and Parkland Agriculture Society. The daughter, a 5th generation member of a farming family, wondered how she and her husband could continue farming amidst this new settlement. These "David's" plead not only to protect agriculture but also the environment they cared passionately about. I left wondering if this time Goliath would prevail or would he be smitten by a council that stuck to a long held tradition of protecting agriculture in Willow Creek Municipality.
Sincerely
Larry MacKillop
The Twin Valley Resort project proposed for the Little bow Reservoir has drawn a line drawn between farming and development. Seems everytime the government tells us that a new dam will benefit agriculture, we end up with another subdivision around a "lake." This "lake" came with the added cost of $80 million to relocate a Hutterite colony. Twin Valley Resort now wants to put 360 condos around this "lake. Their huge Calgary lawyer reminded me of Goliath as he roared for and hour and a half against the idea of council interfering with their public access to this area. A dozen farmers sat quietly in the back rows listening to how unfit their land was for agriculture. I wondered where Goliath thought his dinner came from. He stressed the added tax revenue that would come into the area with this development and suggested the fire risk would be held in check by high insurance rates. As for increased road traffic, the condos owners would take the longer highway route in from highway 2 rather than short cut by the old road. When Goliath finished it was time for lunch, perhaps his strategy since only 5 of us returned in the afternoon. Many, like Nanton's Mayor Blake, had other meetings and harvesting demands. Blake left written questions about the increased demands on volunteer fire department, ambulance and police services from this development larger than the town of Stavely. Before any protestors could speak, Goliath demanded 30 letters in support of the project be read into record. I recognized some names from the Silver Willow Lodge but others were from as far away as Sherwood Park. (shareholders?) Finally at 1:30 PM, neighbours to this project, Gerald Lyon, Diana Andrews and her daughter, spoke on behalf of themselves and Parkland Agriculture Society. The daughter, a 5th generation member of a farming family, wondered how she and her husband could continue farming amidst this new settlement. These "David's" plead not only to protect agriculture but also the environment they cared passionately about. I left wondering if this time Goliath would prevail or would he be smitten by a council that stuck to a long held tradition of protecting agriculture in Willow Creek Municipality.
Sincerely
Larry MacKillop
Monday, August 20, 2007
waiting for the revolution
Aug 19. 2007
Concerned about a trilateral meeting in Quebec that might see our Cdn water sold, Linda and I attended a rally in Calgary. I took the opportunity to grab some falafel from a Lebanese shop playing Arabic music next to the Hudson Bay building. How Cdn! Enroute to the rally we passed side signs advertising fringe theatre productions. Took me back to my 3 fringe efforts including Tender Meat News, my play about North Americans obtaining heart replacements from Guatemalan street kids in exchange for our artificial ones. The media in Saskatoon and Edmonton were incensed at mackillops conceit in blaming them slammed me into closing both places early. My inadequate talent and funds led to a technically bad show. I had more success plays about a Marxist children's writer stuck with a tone of moldy Nicaraguan coffee he had bought on speculation as well as a play about a Canadian nationalist who goes to Florida to bury his Aunti America only to find his nationalism is rooted in that rather than love of his own country. That was then while today I was a senior joining a protest about world fascism.
I arrived at the city hall plaza to find 4 friends sitting at a table. Byron Price works for a society helping the poor. We donate a lamb each year to his fund raiser. Jim Beck is a retired med professor who I met 37 yrs ago when I hosted a meeting of people wanting to start a left wing newspaper in Calgary. We support a consortium for blind people he helps in El Salvador. Jack Century, whom I met through The Council of Canadians and NDP, has orchestrated a possible production of my play, Dr Dave Lander, at the Jewish Centre. Then came Ed Wolfe, an 84 year old geologist who supported my formation of an institute to get sex education into Calgary schools despite strong opposed from the John Birch Society. The rally was small with passionate young people speaking about the shame of leaders and corporations meeting in secret to give way our water and heritage. I had a chance to connect my old friends with each other. Jim and Jack are both descendents of Polish Jewish immigrants to USA.. Jim and Ed both renounced their US citizenship over their country's actions. It was Byron who connected me with Tom Jeyachandran, who took Linda and I to see his native India. When the rally ended I got the email address of a fiery young speaker, who told me she was a student in Social Welfare (another chapter of my life, I taught there). She said she had been wanting to join the NDP and God knows we could use some fire there! Linda and I took Byron and Jim for a bowl of Po at a Viet Namese restaurant. I asked the manager, a woman I recognized, how long she had been here and she replied 21 years. We gave Byron and Jim a ride back to the NW where Byron gave me a large piece of Spring salmon sent for us from Tom. As I drove Byron back to the C Train stn where he'd left his car, we stopped to greet one of his condo neighbors, Helen, a survivor of Auswitch. Then Linda and I left Calgary, a place with so many connections and a revolution not yet begun.
Concerned about a trilateral meeting in Quebec that might see our Cdn water sold, Linda and I attended a rally in Calgary. I took the opportunity to grab some falafel from a Lebanese shop playing Arabic music next to the Hudson Bay building. How Cdn! Enroute to the rally we passed side signs advertising fringe theatre productions. Took me back to my 3 fringe efforts including Tender Meat News, my play about North Americans obtaining heart replacements from Guatemalan street kids in exchange for our artificial ones. The media in Saskatoon and Edmonton were incensed at mackillops conceit in blaming them slammed me into closing both places early. My inadequate talent and funds led to a technically bad show. I had more success plays about a Marxist children's writer stuck with a tone of moldy Nicaraguan coffee he had bought on speculation as well as a play about a Canadian nationalist who goes to Florida to bury his Aunti America only to find his nationalism is rooted in that rather than love of his own country. That was then while today I was a senior joining a protest about world fascism.
I arrived at the city hall plaza to find 4 friends sitting at a table. Byron Price works for a society helping the poor. We donate a lamb each year to his fund raiser. Jim Beck is a retired med professor who I met 37 yrs ago when I hosted a meeting of people wanting to start a left wing newspaper in Calgary. We support a consortium for blind people he helps in El Salvador. Jack Century, whom I met through The Council of Canadians and NDP, has orchestrated a possible production of my play, Dr Dave Lander, at the Jewish Centre. Then came Ed Wolfe, an 84 year old geologist who supported my formation of an institute to get sex education into Calgary schools despite strong opposed from the John Birch Society. The rally was small with passionate young people speaking about the shame of leaders and corporations meeting in secret to give way our water and heritage. I had a chance to connect my old friends with each other. Jim and Jack are both descendents of Polish Jewish immigrants to USA.. Jim and Ed both renounced their US citizenship over their country's actions. It was Byron who connected me with Tom Jeyachandran, who took Linda and I to see his native India. When the rally ended I got the email address of a fiery young speaker, who told me she was a student in Social Welfare (another chapter of my life, I taught there). She said she had been wanting to join the NDP and God knows we could use some fire there! Linda and I took Byron and Jim for a bowl of Po at a Viet Namese restaurant. I asked the manager, a woman I recognized, how long she had been here and she replied 21 years. We gave Byron and Jim a ride back to the NW where Byron gave me a large piece of Spring salmon sent for us from Tom. As I drove Byron back to the C Train stn where he'd left his car, we stopped to greet one of his condo neighbors, Helen, a survivor of Auswitch. Then Linda and I left Calgary, a place with so many connections and a revolution not yet begun.
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